Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page i
Steven Herrick was born in Brisbane, the youngest of seven
children. At school, his favourite subject was soccer, and he dreamed of football glory while he worked at various jobs, including fruit picking. Now, he’s a full time writer and performs in many schools each year. He loves talking to students and their teachers about stories, poetry, soccer and even golf. Steven lives in the Blue Mountains with his wife and sons. Visit his website at www.acay.com.au/~sherrick
Love, ghosts & nose hair – shortlisted in the 1997 CBCA awards and the NSW Premier’s Literary Awards
A place like this – shortlisted in the 1999 CBCA awards and the NSW Premier’s Literary Awards, and commended in the 1998 Victorian Premier’s Literary Awards The simple gift – shortlisted in the 2001 CBCA awards and the NSW Premier’s Literary Awards
By the river – Honour Book in the 2005 CBCA awards and winner of the Ethel Turner Prize in the NSW Premier’s Literary Awards
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page ii
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page iii
Lonesome Howl Steven Herrick
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page iv
First published in 2006 Copyright © Steven Herrick 2006 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act. Allen & Unwin 83 Alexander St Crows Nest NSW 2065 Australia Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100 Fax: (61 2) 9906 2218 Email:
[email protected] Web: www.allenandunwin.com National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry: Herrick, Steven, 1958 . Lonesome howl ISBN 9 781741 14656 1. ISBN 1 74114 656 9. 1. Teenagers – Juvenile fiction. 2. Father and child – Juvenile fiction. 3. Self-actualizatioin (Psychology) in adolescence – Juvenile fiction. 4. Wolves – Juvenile fiction. I. Title. A823.3 Cover photograph from Photolibrary/Brad Green Cover design by Sandra Nobes Set in 10.5pt Apollo by Midland Typesetters Printed in Australia by McPherson's Printing Group 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Teachers’ notes are available from www.allenandunwin.com
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page v
When I was eighteen, I told Mum I wanted to be a writer. The next day, she went out and bought me a desk and a chair from a second-hand furniture store. Nearly thirty years on, I still write my books at that desk. Mum died last year. I like writing at her desk. It brings us closer. With love. S.H.
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page vi
Also by Steven Herrick Water Bombs Love, ghosts & nose hair A place like this The simple gift By the river
for children The place where the planes take off My life, my love, my lasagne Poetry, to the rescue The spangled drongo Love poems and leg-spinners Tom Jones saves the world Do-wrong Ron Naked Bunyip Dancing
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page vii
Contents One
Lucy
1
Two
Jake
21
Three
Holidays
31
Four
Lonesome howl
60
Five
The deep silence
85
Six
The mist
112
Seven
The cave
Eight
This is what happens
Nine
Morning
Ten
Home
201
125
165
146
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page viii
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
one
Lucy
5:00 PM
Page 1
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 2
Lucy My name’s Lucy Harding. Lucy’s not short for anything, it’s just Lucy. That’s right, with a ‘y’. Only people from the city spell it with an ‘i’, or call themselves Lucienne. I’m not French, and I’m not from the city. I’m from Battle Farm. My grandma named it that, on account of her always saying, ‘It’s a battle to keep this place; a battle to survive.’ And she did pretty good. At surviving, I mean. She died a few years ago, aged ninety-two. She’s buried up the hill next to Grandpa, overlooking their farm and I reckon she’s up there thinking, Why did my daughter marry someone like him? Mr Right.
2
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 3
He’s never right. He just thinks he is. He is Dad, but I don’t want to talk about him.
3
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 4
Swampland There are two farms in this valley. No one else can be bothered cutting through the ragged paperbarks, the Paterson’s curse and the creeping lantana. Wolli Creek flows deep into the valley through a sandy swamp, alive with mosquitoes and bugs. From the banks, big granite boulders step up to the hills. Nothing for farming. Everyone at school says we live in the arse-end of the earth. They all tell stories about diseased feral animals prowling, quicksand that swallows you whole and strange lights hovering above the bog. Sometimes, when I’m bored, I join in. I tell the little kids about long-winged bats and wild pigs, big as lions, and blood-curdling screams at midnight. It’s all I can do to stop from laughing, but, hell, it passes the time.
4
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 5
The Hardings So there’s me. I’m sixteen. And my mum, who milks our cow, Martha, and cooks what she grows, scraping dirt off potatoes and carrots, washing them in the sink. Every evening after dinner she sits on the back verandah looking up at her parents’ graves. She doesn’t say much and that suits me fine. And there’s Peter, my brother, who’s twelve, but acts like he’s eight. You know, always pestering me, or playing shoot-’em-up games on his PlayStation. Once, he climbed up on the shed roof in his Superman cape. Yeah, no kidding. I bet you’re thinking he jumped off and broke his arm. Right? Wrong. Superman was scared. Mum got the ladder and she sent me up
5
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 6
to help him down. I had to talk all nice and careful, like I was worried. ‘Come on, Peter. It’ll be all right. Superman can’t die.’ Dad kept fiddling with his car. That’s all he ever does. Tinker with the engine, shoot his rifle at targets and go on about everything I do wrong.
6
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 7
The death of poor Winnie If Peter thinks he’s Superman, Dad acts like some straight-shooting outlaw. He sets himself on the old vinyl car seat against the gum tree and he gets Peter to draw pictures, rabbits and deer and kangaroos, on big sheets of paper. Then he sticks them on the shed and fires away. Does he hit the target? Well, he hits the shed, at least. Except one time, when he had way too much to drink. I sat under the house hoping he’d shoot his foot off. Now that would be funny. He blasted away doing his best to hit the mark but he missed everything except Winnie, the pig. You should have heard Superman cry. Mum rang Mr Samuels, the town butcher, who drove out and cut up poor Winnie. We had pork for dinner and bacon for breakfast,
7
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 8
every day for a month. It’s the only time I can remember the old bastard doing anything useful.
8
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 9
Questions When Dad’s head is so far under the bonnet I imagine walking up behind, giving him one swift kick and running away, never coming back. But not Peter. He tries to help. He hangs around, shuffling his feet in the dirt, picking up tools, leaning over the engine, asking questions. Dad only ever answers with a grunt or a shrug. Peter keeps talking, jabber jabber jabber. Dad lifts his head and frowns, spits in the dirt and picks up another spanner as he’s forced to listen to his own son. If that was me doing all the talking he’d tell me, straightaway, to piss off.
9
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 10
I lounge around, pretending I’m reading, listening to Peter and knowing that my stupid father doesn’t know how to shut him up. ‘Keep talking, Peter,’ I whisper to myself. ‘Ask another question. Go on.’
10
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 11
Lucy, and the work Mostly I stay out of his way. Simple as that. At dinner I eat quicker than I should and keep my head down. Whenever anybody asks me to get the cordial from the fridge or the salt from the pantry, I do it without a word. Don’t think I’m weak. I’m not. I’m snarling underneath and they know it. I’m doing what I’m told to avoid getting hit. When Grandma was alive Dad would take his dinner outside because she stared him down. Grandma said what she liked. She wasn’t afraid of anything. She’d grin across the table. ‘You don’t own nothing, Lucy, unless you work for it. Remember that. Working is the owning.’ She’d look at Mum, daring her to say something, but no one crossed Grandma. 11
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 12
Some people die In the last year of her life Grandma could barely walk. Every morning she’d struggle out to the verandah, one arm around my shoulder, her shaky hand holding a walking stick. There she’d sit, watching the farm. He’d keep out of the way, in the shed or out the back, smoking one fag after another. Grandma knew what went on. She waved her stick at him whenever he came near. She’d tell my mum to stand up to him, to fight back. Mum was deaf to all that. When Grandma couldn’t leave her bed, a week before she died, I sat beside her. She asked me to draw back the curtains and open the window, so she could see up the hill to Grandpa’s grave. I stayed with her for hours on the faded old lounge chair, ready to help if she needed water or her pills.
12
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 13
It was safe there. One morning, Grandma heard Dad shouting. She reached for my hand, squeezing tight each time his voice stormed through the walls. She said, ‘Lucy, some people die long before they’re in the ground.’
13
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 14
Lucy’s will I don’t believe in omens or signs and stuff like that. But every morning, before I get out of bed, I lean over to look at Beaumont Hill rising above our farm like a wild animal about to pounce. If there’s a dark cloud behind the hill I stay in bed for five more minutes, waiting to see if the wind blows it past. I close my eyes and picture the cloud moving away from our farm with the westerly. If I open my eyes too soon I know that cloud will stay there all day. It doesn’t mean bad luck. He’ll be in a crappy mood, cloud or no cloud. Nothing can change that. I close my eyes and focus on the darkness drifting away. By force of will I want to move the cloud. That would be some trick, if I could do it.
14
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 15
The witness Ranting, yelling, stomping around their bedroom. Sometimes she answers back and I hear his voice change: deeper, menacing. It’s the quiet that scares me. I pull the blankets tight and hide in my dark cocoon waiting for another explosion. I should help Mum, somehow, be on her side. But she does nothing to stop it. ‘Just keep out of his way, Lucy.’ As if it’s our fault; as if we made him like this. She takes it without a whimper, too scared to move. And when he starts on me in the daylight, she just looks away and I’m thinking, She’s just glad it’s not her.
15
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 16
I’m not sure what hurts more, his ugly words, his backhanders, or watching Mum seeing it all and doing nothing.
16
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 17
Floating I got the idea when I helped Superman get down off the roof. When I want to escape, I climb the wooden ladder onto the shed roof and lie back on the iron, looking at the high clouds floating by. I can hear the farm below me: the dogs growling, the click of each peg as Mum hangs the washing, Dad coughing, sniffing, lighting another smoke; Peter talking to anyone who’ll listen, or when that doesn’t work, talking to himself. I know they can’t see me, they don’t even miss me. I close my eyes and imagine the clouds, feather-soft, holding me high above everything. My body tingles. I’m alone, if only for a while. I stay here until the sun fades behind Beaumont Hill,
17
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 18
when Mum calls me to help with dinner. I stand and stretch my arms open to the valley. On a good day I can almost fool myself that I belong here.
18
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 19
Preparing dinner Mum washes the potatoes in the sink, scrubbing the dirt loose with a plastic brush. I peel them, ready for the boiling water, and stare out the window at him sitting on the seat, his head tilting forward as he dozes. ‘Just stay out of his way.’ Mum’s so caught up in her work she doesn’t know she’s said it aloud. ‘What?’ ‘Nothing, I was just . . .’ ‘You were talking about him, weren’t you?’ She turns away from the sink, drying her hands on her apron, getting the cutlery from the drawer. ‘What if he comes after me, Mum? How do I get out of his way then?’ ‘Lucy . . .’ ‘It’s a bit hard to escape when he‘s blocking the doorway, don’t you reckon?’ She sets the table with nervous hands, taking extra care with each knife and fork; anything to avoid answering me. She shakes her head. ‘I don’t want to fight, Lucy.’
19
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 20
Bloody hell. I chuck the peeler in the sink and storm past her. ‘Neither do I, Mum.’
20
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
two
Jake
5:00 PM
Page 21
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 22
Jake I’m Jake. Jake Jackson. I’m fifteen years old. I live in an old timber house a stone’s throw from Wolli Creek. Mum and Dad and me have lived here forever. My Great-grandpa Ellis wandered into this area with a few prize Merinos and two dogs and the story goes that he met Miss Lizzy Beacher in town one day when he was asking directions to the barber. ‘I wanted a neat trim haircut and I ended up with a wife. Best advice I ever got!’ They had lots of kids and all of them worked on this farm just like we do now, and we always will.
22
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 23
The farmhouse When I was ten years old Dad and me built the verandah around this old place that’s stood here for a hundred years and we used hardwood from the forest just like Great-grandpa did. Dad and me worked for weeks, coating the floorboards in oil, breathing in the strong smell mixing with the timber. Before I stained the last board, in the far corner by the drainpipe, Dad got a long sharp nail and said, ‘Scrape our names, yours and mine, deep in the grain, with the date. Your kids, Jake, my grandkids, will know what we’ve built was for them.’
23
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 24
Daybreak Every morning I’m up at daybreak. I go out to the verandah, pull my boots on and walk down to the chook shed. The frost hard grass crackles under my feet. I unlock the gate to the shed and walk across the dusty floor, messy with straw and wild grass stalks, to collect the eggs, still warm, from the raised nests along the wall. The hens scatter, clucking and fussing in the dirt. Once I saw a two-metre red-belly black snake curled in the corner of the shed, near the water trough. I backed out quickly and ran to tell Dad. He reached for the shovel we always keep on the verandah. We buried the snake behind the shed. I made a little white cross with a bad rhyme: Here lies a snake, black and red, came looking for eggs, now he’s dead.
24
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 25
Bread Sometimes, late in the afternoon, Mum and I cook in the kitchen. When I was young she taught me how to knead the dough for bread. I love rolling the firm ball in my hands, sprinkling the flour, adding the rainwater, kneading on the big wooden table. I stack the small-cut logs in the firebox to make it good and hot, ready for the loaves. We got an electric stove years ago but Mum never cooks bread in that. ‘No smoke, no flavour,’ she says. Three times a week we fire up the Early Kooka to make bread. And just before dinner she tears bits off a still-warm loaf, steaming in her hands. I get the crust, smothered in butter melting in the soft flesh.
25
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 26
The wolf story Ever since I can remember, my dad has talked about the wolf. From the age of five I’d sit beside him on the back step. We’d look across the paddocks of sheep into the forest shimmering in the afternoon heat, watching, the two of us sure the wolf would come if we sat here long enough. As night fell, I’d ask him to tell me, once more, about when he saw the wolf. If the wolf wouldn’t show at least we could talk about him. In the gathering dark I’d hang on every word, listening to Dad’s deep voice tell me the wolf story.
26
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 27
The wolf at Wolli Creek ‘I was twenty years old when I saw the wolf at Wolli Creek. I was fishing for trout at Mercer Bend where the water runs deep and brown, with bubbles rising to the surface. I heard a branch snap upstream. His head was large and noble. His ears, bigger than any dog’s, pricked, waiting for a sound. I stood shock still as he came down to the creek, not taking his eyes from me. As he approached, the forest hushed. The tips of his fur were lighter in colour and it gave him a ghostly appearance. His paws sank deep into the wet sand as he drank, his long tongue lapping the water.’ ‘What next, Dad? What happened?’ ‘We stared at each other, eye to eye. It seemed so long, Jake, but it was probably only a few seconds. Then he turned and ran into the bushes. I never saw him again.
27
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 28
But I think of him out there, maybe with a mate, and a litter. Wolves don’t live in Australia, so they say.’
28
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 29
Jake’s shed Dad and I built the chook shed when I was twelve. We worked for two days sawing the heavy posts, coating them with sump oil. Dad taught me how to set them level. I loved hammering the wire, bending the nails to hold each end tight, bashing away without a care. It didn’t seem like work at all. Even though it was made of scrap iron and chicken wire, we knew it’d stand forever because of the effort we put in; the care we took to get everything right. Mum painted the chook shed door a rich green, as a background, and with her fine art brushes she drew our old farmhouse with smoke rising from the chimney, hens and chickens pecking in the grass. ‘To make them feel at home,’ she said. And if you look really closely, in the corner of the painting, peeking from behind the house,
29
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 30
you can see a wolf: a grey wolf. When Mum finished, she winked at me. ‘For your father, Jake.’
30
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
three
Holidays
Page 31
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 32
Jake: the school bus I walk up the bumpy winding driveway, jump our wooden double gate and wait for the bus. It’s late, as usual. The clouds roll in over the hills, cockatoos screech in the dead trees and the wind blows cold through my jacket. I chuck a few rocks at the Eggs for Sale sign I made ages ago. We’ve had two buyers in three years. Nobody drives down this road except us, the Hardings and the school bus. It rattles down the road and squeaks to a stop with the front door already open. I hop on, say hello to Peter and Lucy in the front seat and sit behind them. Every morning it’s the same – before the bus moves Peter turns and starts talking. ‘Today is the last day of school. Next week I’m gonna ride me bike every day
32
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 33
and maybe Dad’ll loan me his gun and I’ll go shooting. You wanna come? We can get a wild pig, or maybe a fox. Whaddya reckon, Jake?’ On and on until the bus pulls into school.
33
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 34
Lucy: the Trobriands I read a book a week. I don’t care what sort of book. As long as old Mrs Bains lets me loan it, I’ll read it. Today I finished a book about these islands in the South Pacific, with palm trees and coconuts and sandy beaches and canoes and all the heavenly things you’d expect. But on this island they have a celebration: a Yam Festival. It goes for two months, and all the islanders have sex with each other, whether they’re married or not. And the young women form gangs and they rape the men. No kidding. Five of them hold him down, and one jumps on top. The writer didn’t say what the men think of this, other than they’re all a bit scared to walk alone during the festival. Now I’m reading this in the library and I start laughing out loud about these big strong island men afraid to walk along a beach or through the forest
34
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 35
because a bunch of young girls like me might jump out and rape them. At the end of the festival, they all go back to being married couples and the young women return to working in the village, waiting for a husband. Everyone gets married in the Trobriands. And everyone goes crazy for two months a year.
35
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 36
Jake: in class Coomuya Central School has seven teachers for classes Prep to Year Twelve. Which means sometimes Peter, Lucy and me are in the same class even though we’re at different levels. Mrs Clarke roams around each desk, hands behind her back, grinding her teeth as we work. The rule is you put your hand up if you don’t understand anything. Simple. As soon as we start Maths, Peter raises his hand. Mrs Clarke explains it once again, leaning down to write the formula on his workbook. She circles the classroom, the click of her heels loud on the timber floor, until Peter calls, ‘But, Miss . . .?’ his hand held high. This goes on all morning. It’s perfect.
36
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 37
Those of us who want to work, do it. Those who want to doodle on their books can draw for as long as they want. Peter is the most popular kid in class, for all the wrong reasons.
37
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 38
Lucy: the library Stupid old Mrs Bains only lets us take out three books over the holidays. It’s nowhere near enough. So, every day this week I’ve picked a book I want and taken it to the back corner of the library, well away from Bains and her hawkeyes. I settle on the beanbag, acting like I’m absorbed in the book, but really I’m waiting for her phone to ring. Bains has this weird habit of closing her eyes when she talks on the phone. I reckon she’s deaf and her fuzzy old brain thinks that if her eyes are shut then her ears will be open. I don’t know and I don’t care. But when she’s talking, she can’t see me. I sneak open the back window, place the book on the ledge and head out of the library. I race around the back and pick up the book. My long-term loan.
38
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 39
Jake: last day of term The last day of school before the winter holidays. Mrs Clarke is chirpier than usual. She gets the class to read aloud from this book about an old bloke who thinks he’s in a Prisoner of War camp. We all laugh when he hides under the bed ‘cursing the Japs’ as the nurses spend hours searching the grounds. Everyone in class wants Mrs Clarke to read, but she insists we do. The book goes round from desk to desk, one page each . . . Peter reads so slowly. Everyone stares out the window at the cleaner emptying bins, at the Primary kids playing cricket, at the cows in a distant paddock, as we try to follow the story . . . one painful, mispronounced word at a time. Mrs Clarke thanks Peter for his effort and asks me to take over. I’m eager to see if the old fellow escapes the home. I cross the fingers of my left hand as thanks to Mum for teaching me to read,
39
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 40
so I won’t be shamed like Peter Harding staring straight at the chalkboard.
40
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 41
Lucy: disgust I hate it when Clarkie does that. I reckon it’s payback for all the questions he asks in Maths. Peter can’t read for nothing. She shouldn’t make him. Everyone in class lounging around, groaning or looking out the window, listening to him stammer over simple words, all because he got genes from Dad who wouldn’t know what a book is for. I’ve seen him rip out pages to use as fire-starters for our old woodstove in the kitchen. At home I hide my books under the wardrobe in my room and read them late at night, while the dogs bark and Dad opens another bottle. Dad says, ‘You don’t need books, girl. To be smart, all you need is what’s up here.’ And he taps his head with a nicotine finger.
41
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 42
He means a brain, but I so want to say, ‘What? Dirty hair?’
42
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 43
Lucy: three weeks I’m thinking of nothing but holidays as I walk out the school gate to wait for the bus. Three weeks away from this place, reading books by Wolli Creek and dreaming of places I’d like to go. The creek is far enough away so I don’t hear Dad shouting at Mum, or hear Peter whining, bored, or the dogs growling over leftover bones, and the constant bark of talkback radio and know-all announcers raving on about the economy and refugees, the unemployed, the Aborigines, and on and on and Dad hanging around outside, smoking rollies, saying, ‘He’s right, you know!’ to every stupid thing he hears. I’d like to pitch a tent beside Wolli Creek and live there, listening to the gentle sound of clear water bubbling over rocks.
43
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 44
Lucy: on holidays On the bus home, Nathan Stokes, a seat behind us, mocks Peter’s reading, mimicks his words, stuttering, looking for an audience. Peter’s hands are shaking and I’m not sure if he’s going to cry or start screaming, and either way I don’t want to be part of this crap. So, I turn and face Stokes. I don’t say anything. I just give him a killer look until even Nathan Stokes is not sure if it’s worth the effort of going on. I see him searching for help. He’s about to try his luck, so I lean in close and slap him hard across the face. The slap echoes down the bus and no one moves until our stop. I pick up my bag, saunter down the aisle and step off onto the road.
44
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 45
When the bus turns, Nathan calls after Peter, ‘You wait, Harding. You can’t always hide behind your sister.’ Big, strong Peter gives Nathan the finger as I stroll up our long dirt driveway, on holidays.
45
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 46
Jake: on holidays I skirt the western boundary with Patch bounding ahead chasing the swallows and barking at the clouds. Spud ambles beside me, tongue out, tail wagging. I check the fence, feel the tension in the wire, the strength of the posts, firm in the ground. I remember working the post-hole digger, hoping there were no rocks underneath as we dug into the brown soil. It took two weeks last winter, with the winds ripping down the valley. Sometimes I imagine I can still feel the cracks in my hands, deep and hard. Patch drops a stick at my feet and jumps away, eyes flashing between me and the lure of the prize. I fling the stick and sit against the post. Spud nuzzles his head into my chest, wanting to be scratched behind his ears.
46
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 47
I rub my hands deep into his fur. Patch drops his new toy at my feet, again. The three of us in the sunshine, on holidays.
47
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 48
Lucy: dinner It’s the last time I do anything for my stupid brother. He didn’t have to tell everyone what I did, and bullshit about how he was going to hit Stokes himself, if I hadn’t done it first. Sure, Superman, sure. And all the time he’s talking I know Dad’s watching me, waiting for the chance . . . ‘So, your sister can fight back, Peter?’ I shovel in the food, quick as it’ll go. I just want out of here. And Peter says, ‘I would have punched him, Dad. Not just a slap.’ I bite down hard on my food to keep from reaching across the table to shut him up myself. ‘Only girls slap, Dad.’ I can’t take it anymore. ‘Yeah, and only boys are cowards with fists.’ As soon as the words are out, I know I’ve said too much.
48
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 49
I carry my plate to the sink, to rinse, sure his eyes haven’t left me. I hear him get up and slowly walk around the table to stand behind me. He says, ‘These hands work this farm, girl.’ He’s waiting. If I turn to face him he’ll hit me, so I wash my plate, keeping my head down, my shoulders stiff, hands shaking under the flow of the water. He says, ‘She’s not so tough now, Peter.’
49
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 50
Peter My dad, he gets angry sometimes. I don’t know what for. Maybe it’s because of the farm and not having no money and stuff. Or maybe it’s ’cause he wishes he was a truckie, which was his job before he met Mum. He was just driving through town, delivering stuff. When he told me that he snapped his fingers and said, ‘Like that, from truckie to farmer.’ And he clicked his fingers again to prove how quick things change. Then he goes quiet for a real long time as if he’s back driving across the country, with no one around and nothing to worry about. I try and cheer him up by telling him I’ve made the cricket team at school, and asking about the farm and whether we should plant some crops and hope for better luck this year. I reckon I’ll be a farmer one day. Only I’ll try and not get too angry, even if we don’t make money or have much to do way out here.
50
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 51
Jake: chasing ghosts This morning I boil the eggs, and wait for Mum and Dad to come in from the bottom paddock. Dad chucks his hat on the table and wipes his sleeve across his forehead. He swears under his breath. Another sheep is dead. I put the toast on his plate and an egg in the cup, ready. Mum sets the old kettle on the stove. ‘Second sheep this week, Jake. If this keeps up, there’ll be no shearing this season. None.’ ‘It’s a fox, Dad.’ ‘No way, Jake. The sheep was ripped to bits. Foxes eat their fill and leave. This animal’s bigger. I followed his paw prints down to the creek. He’s a smart animal, this wolf.’ I don’t answer. I know Dad and his endless search for the wolf.
51
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 52
‘Are we spotlighting tonight, Dad?’ He sighs. ‘I spend my days burying sheep and my nights chasing ghosts.’
52
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 53
Jake: spotlighting Patch and Spud jump on the ute as Dad loads his gun, flicks on the safety switch and carefully places it along the rack behind the seat. I climb on the back and grip the spotlight on the roof. My knees press into the old mattress wedged against the cabin so the bumping and shaking over the paddocks won’t toss me. Dad starts the engine and the dogs start barking. It’s a clear crisp night with hundreds of stars and I can smell the smoke from the Hardings’ fireplace. Dad drives slowly and keeps to the tracks, his hands tugging the wheel to miss the potholes. The ute bounces along as I direct the spotlight, this way and that. Its murderous stare stabs deep into the scrub. We both see something reflecting from the bush,
53
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 54
glinting in the beam. Dad reaches for the rifle, eyes never leaving the light, until he sees it’s a kangaroo dazzled by the brightness. Dad could take him out with one shot. Patch and Spud bark, but their leads hold firm. The roo bounds through the bush and Dad drives on.
54
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 55
Jake: midnight After an hour of searching and rattling over sheep tracks Dad parks by the creek and kills the engine. I let Patch and Spud off their leads. They jump from the ute and dash for the creek, tails flipping like wild antennae. Dad and I sit on the warm bonnet as we unwrap the sandwiches. He pours tea into the tin mugs and we look up at the stars. ‘I used to count them when I was your age, Jake. I could never keep tally. There’s just too many.’ ‘Like possums, rabbits and roos,’ I reply. ‘Lucky they live here. Harding would use them for target practice.’ Dad has no time for the Hardings and their farm with overgrown weeds and stock that run wild, knocking down fences and fouling the creek.
55
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 56
Dad never kills anything, except foxes and snakes. Foxes kill sheep. Snakes kill people. So Dad kills foxes and snakes. Simple as that. But here we are spotlighting, gun loaded, hunting. ‘If it’s really the wolf, Dad, what are you going to do if we see it?’ ‘What do you want me to do, Jake? Let it kill my sheep?’ ‘I couldn’t pull the trigger,’ I say, ‘not if it’s really a wolf. I mean, they don’t live . . .’ Dad interrupts. ‘Yeah, I know. They don’t live in Australia. So, maybe all the more reason to shoot it.’ ‘You’d kill it? To prove it’s here? That’s crazy.’ Dad slides off the bonnet and packs the esky, screwing the lid on the thermos so tight I can hear the thread scraping. ‘I don’t know, Jake. Let’s find the bloody thing first.’
56
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 57
‘What do we do then?’ Dad ignores my question, chucks the esky in the back, whistles for the dogs and starts the engine. He winds down the window. ‘You coming? Or staying out here with the wolf?’
57
Lonesome USE (NEW)
31/8/06
9:32 AM
Page 58
Lucy: Christmas It was Christmas Day last year and we were in the back yard after lunch. For the first time in a long while he hadn’t raised his voice all day or complained about the food or said anything nasty to me. He was sitting under the tree polishing his gun and taking pot shots at the shed and Peter’s drawings. A kookaburra landed on a branch a few metres above him and let out a thrilling laugh that seemed to echo off the hills and fill the valley. I was so happy watching the bird and marvelling at its noise, I didn’t see Dad raise the gun and fire. All I saw was the bird fall at his feet.
58
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 59
He looked at me and said, ‘He’s not laughing now.’ I’ve never heard the valley so quiet. The moment after he killed the bird. Dead quiet. When he went inside, I walked across to the kookaburra, picked it up and took its body behind the shed. I dug a deep grave and buried him where the dogs can’t get him.
59
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 60
four
Lonesome howl
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 61
Jake: the lonesome howl It’s a lonesome howl, echoing across the valley. I jump out of bed, eager, opening the window wide so I can lean out into the chill night. Darkness. The gum tree scratches against the window. The faint light of the moon reflects off the iron of the chook shed and another howl floats across the valley, long and lonely. It’s so mournful I can feel it on my skin. He’s searching for a mate, marking his territory. I close my eyes. He’s high on Beaumont Hill, his head cocked arrow-straight at the moon as he lets loose this deep wail over the forest and the winter paddocks. Both of us, the wolf and me, under a half moon, waiting for a reply that never comes.
61
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 62
Lucy: wild dog Years ago, Grandma told me the story of the dog turned wild. I was at school when it happened. One of our dogs, Shadow, was sleeping under the stairs when Dad walked down and trod on his tail. Shadow woke in fright and bit Dad on the leg and wouldn’t let go. Grandma was smiling as she told me about Dad shouting, lashing out at the dog, but Shadow locked onto his leg growling, as if possessed by ancient blood. Grandma said Dad beat that dog over and over across his back until he let go, growling still, circling him in the dirt. Shadow was boss of the yard until Dad fled inside and got the gun. He raced back outside, swearing, calling the dog’s name and trying to load the gun,
62
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 63
all at the same time. Shadow was too quick. He ran across the paddocks. Dad chased him for hours and never got close. Grandma told me she loved that dog and she was sure Dad heard Shadow’s howls and remembered being defeated in his own back yard.
63
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 64
Lucy: my friend I hear the howl and close my book. My friend, the wild dog. He’s up on Beaumont Hill, I reckon, looking for a mate, or just howling because he can. He’s not scared of anything because he’s the boss and every other animal hears that call and keeps out of his way. Like at school, when Jim Bradley swaggers across the oval. Everyone moves aside because he’s bigger and meaner and he likes to fight. We all just back off and let Jim go where he wants. It’s no skin off my nose. He can bully all he likes, so long as he leaves me alone. Only Jim Bradley is not like the wild dog. He’s not nearly as smart. There’s the call again. I go to my window and see the heavy clouds over Beaumont Hill.
64
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 65
I’d like to be up there now, looking down on everything in the forest night, where no one can touch you.
65
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 66
Jake: breakfast ‘I’d rather he howled all night than ripped apart my sheep.’ That’s what Dad says in the morning while we eat breakfast on the verandah, looking up at the dark clouds covering the rocky hills all around our valley. ‘I haven’t heard him for ages, Dad.’ ‘Me neither. But now we know he’s still around. I’d hoped he’d move north for winter.’ ‘What, like a surfie wolf?’ Mum chuckles into her toast. ‘Very funny, Jake. I don’t care what he does, as long as I have the same number of sheep each morning.’ Dad tosses the tea-leaves into the garden and goes inside. I shiver, pull my jacket tight and watch the chickens pecking at the scraps. One day, I’ll find the wolf. Face to face, we’ll see each other across Wolli Creek and he’ll know I’ve been waiting, searching for him all my life.
66
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 67
I’ll hold out my hand, tell him I understand his howl echoing through the night. Then he’ll be my wolf.
67
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 68
Lucy: breakfast Dad walks into the kitchen, carrying his .22 and a box of bullets. He drags out his chair and starts loading the magazine, looking up, waiting for someone to ask where he’s going. I finish my cereal and stand to leave. ‘Your wild dog better watch out, Lucy. I’ve had enough of that mangy animal keeping me awake. Today he’s dead.’ I wash my bowl in the sink and imagine Dad scrambling up Beaumont Hill, searching and swearing. He’s got as much chance of finding the dog as he has of finding a job. As I walk out, I say, ‘Yeah. Good luck.’ He sits at the table snapping the magazine into the rifle and yells after me, ‘Nothing to do with luck. He’s dead. You mark my words.’ I walk into the back yard where Mum is hanging the washing.
68
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 69
She looks up as he shouts some more, then suddenly becomes real interested in the wet clothes in the basket. Anything to avoid my eyes. Mum and me, sometimes we go for days not looking at each other.
69
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 70
Peter Dad’s gonna kill the wild dog today. No worries. I reckon the dog deserves it, howling all night like a ghost. I’m not scared or nothing. I just don’t like being woke up. Dad polishes his cool gun and I wanna go with him. I got good eyes and I reckon I could spot the dog a mile away, easy. I could point and let Dad have a free shot. I was gonna ask, but he was in one of his moods and Mum said I shouldn’t. She didn’t want me chasing Dad all over the hills, getting in his way when he’s got his gun. She don’t know nothing. I’d help. I’d find that wild dog.
70
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 71
Lucy: bad luck I don’t remember when it started. Honest. One day I was a normal kid, chasing the chooks, chucking rocks at the crows, running about the farm without a care . . . The next? I was bad luck. I was the cause of the drought, the bushfire, the floods. He was stuck here because of me. Wasting his life. Every day he laid into me with his words, as though blaming someone else made it easier for him. And what he said stung like a nest of bull ants, but I’ll tell you what hurt more. Every day while this was going on, Mum did nothing to stop him. She kept cooking, mopping the floor, hanging the washing.
71
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 72
She seemed to work harder, to keep quieter, as I got older. Maybe she thought the same as him? That I’d brought them both bad luck, just by being born. Maybe she was glad it wasn’t Peter being picked on. I was the easy target. I don’t remember when it started. I don’t know why it started. But it’s never stopped. I grew my hair long and let it fall in front of my face, to hide my eyes from his hate. To hide my hate from his eyes.
72
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 73
Lucy: crash I don’t want to think about him hunting the wild dog so I gather up a bunch of rocks, golf-ball size. I take a bucketload to the far side of the yard. In the cold sunshine I chuck them, one at a time, as high as I can so they land on the old shed roof with a loud crash that makes Mum look up as she sits on the verandah. She wants to say something, but she won’t. I pick up another rock and throw with all my strength, watch it arc high over the shed and land on the house roof above the verandah. It rolls down with a satisfying thump at the foot of the steps, not far from Mum. She doesn’t say a word and I say nothing back.
73
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 74
Lucy: beside the creek Jake and Peter are on the other side of the creek so I ignore them. I read my book, listening to the magpies and the distant bleat of sheep. I haven’t heard a gunshot yet. That makes me smile. I picture my useless father struggling through the lantana all around the hills, swearing and sweating. He’ll get cut by the bushes and he’ll swear some more. After hours of this, he’ll sit on a rock and drink his warm beer, hoping the dog will just walk by. No chance. Something on Beaumont Hill has a brain and it’s not the one drinking beer. I read my book and bask in the sun. I’ll stay here all day.
74
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 75
I don’t want to be around when he gets home. Warm beer, hot sun and no dog.
75
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 76
Jake: my dad and your dad Peter says, ‘My dad says your dad is a flake. Wolves don’t live in Australia. It’s a wild dog, that’s all.’ He picks up a flat stone and skims it across the calm surface of the creek. ‘Didn’t you hear the howl last night?’ I ask. ‘Dogs can howl too, you know. Our dogs howl all night ’cause they’re hungry. My dad says he’s going to shoot it, no questions asked,’ Peter boasts. He never shuts up. ‘Your dad is weak. He don’t even shoot rabbits. My dad says if something is on his farm and it ain’t a sheep or a human, well, it’s dead. Nothing’s taking our sheep. Nothing.’
76
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 77
Jake: Lucy Harding Lucy Harding is still and quiet, nothing like Peter. She sits on the bank opposite, reading, ignoring us. Her long black hair falls in front of her face, like she’s hiding from the world. She wears jeans every day, even to school. And brown riding boots with worn heels and cuts along the toe. I wade across Wolli Creek, stepping from rock to rock, getting wet up to my knees, and sit beside Lucy. She doesn’t look up. I close my eyes, enjoying the sun, and the silence away from loudmouth Peter. ‘It’s not a wolf. It’s just a wild dog.’ She hasn’t lifted her head from the book. She spoke so softly I’m not even sure I’ve heard right, so I say,
77
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 78
‘The wolf?’ ‘It’s not a wolf, okay.’ She lifts her head and looks at me. Then she says, ‘Hell. I don’t care. Call it a wolf, if you want.’
78
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 79
Peter Geez, I hate that Jake Jackson. Him and me stupid sister talking about the wolf. It’s like fairytales and Santa Claus and dumb Easter bunnies and stuff that’s not even real. I hate them because they smirk like they’re smarter than me. And his dad don’t even shoot pests. He lets them live and breed and cause trouble when this land is for sheep and nothing else but us farmers. One day I’m going to find the mangy old hound that howls at the moon and drag its dead body down to the creek here. Then let’s see if Lucy and Jake look so smart, when they see it ain’t nothing but a mangy dog. Nothing but a dead dog.
79
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 80
Jake: one day Peter gets bored skimming stones with no one to babble to, so he wanders home. Lucy stays. I watch the dragonflies hover above the water. Crazy helicopters, Dad calls them. Trout live in the creek, for sure. And turtles, yabbies, eels - slippery and dark with oily skin. Once, when I was fishing, I dragged ashore an old shoe full of sand and weed. It’s a good creek though – no carp, or catfish. The water is filtered clean in the swamp upstream. It’s deep enough for swimming and sometimes, in spring, fast enough to lie on a tractor tube and float for miles downstream to the Pattaya River. Sometimes I dream of getting a canoe and just drifting along, turning into the great river and paddling until I reach the coast hundreds of kilometres away. Mum once told me that’s how the farmers who lived here during the war 80
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 81
went to the coast to enlist. It took them two weeks of hard paddling, but they made it. They signed on and went overseas to fight. Some never returned.
81
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 82
Jake: where the wolf lives? ‘I know where your wolf lives.’ ‘What?’ Lucy doesn’t say much, but she sure knows how to get my attention. ‘Where?’ I ask. ‘Near Balancing Rock on Sheldon Mountain. About twelve kilometres from here.’ I know the place. Bare rocks, rounded by time, and one balancing, ready to roll off the mountain and crush whatever is below. The bush is thick and it’s dark and creepy. I shiver just thinking about it. Dad and me went there once searching for stray sheep. We wandered around for hours and found nothing but huge boulders, stinging nettles and a rotting carcass. ‘How do you know he lives there?’ I ask. Lucy brushes her hair behind her ear
82
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 83
and looks up from her book. ‘I just do, that’s all,’ she replies, her eyes steady on me. ‘I’ll show you, if you promise not to tell anyone where we go, especially Peter.’ I think about it for a while. What if it’s true? I’d want to tell Dad. Twenty years he’s been searching. ‘Well?’ Lucy asks. ‘Okay. I promise.’ ‘Good. We’ll go tomorrow. I’ll meet you here, early. Bring food and water.’ I stand to leave. How can I not tell Dad? Lucy grabs my arm. ‘We keep it quiet. Okay? Just you and me, Jake.’ I look into her eyes. ‘Okay, Lucy. We find the wolf, but then I tell Dad. Deal?’
83
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 84
She shrugs and says, ‘We find a wolf, you can tell the bloody world.’
84
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 85
five
The deep silence
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 86
Lucy: the deep silence I don’t really know where the wild dog lives. I’ve decided I’m getting away from this farm. So I tell Jake about the rock on Sheldon Mountain. It’s the sort of place a wolf would stand looking over the whole valley, looking for a mate, looking for food. If I was Queen of this Valley it’s where I’d live. High above everything where no one ever goes, where the cloud lingers, where I can hide away; where on cold foggy nights I can sit near the rock and howl long into the deep silence.
86
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 87
Jake: Dad’s wolf I pick apples from the wild tree near the track and take them to our horse, Charlie. He trots across his yard and takes an apple from my hand. I pat his thick mane as he crunches the fruit. Lucy and me and the wolf? All those years of talking about it and searching for it. I rub Charlie’s smooth back and listen to Patch and Spud. Dinnertime. They always bark when they smell Mum’s cooking, even if they only get leftovers. Dad’s wolf? Or mine? Tomorrow, on Sheldon Mountain, I’m going to find out.
87
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 88
Jake: roast ‘You’ll love dinner tonight, Jake. It’s a roast.’ ‘Great, Mum. My favourite!’ Better than Dad’s Chicken Surprise, which is just scrambled eggs. Dad says, ‘It could have been a chicken. That’s the surprise.’ ‘It’s a special anniversary, Jake,’ Mum says. I’m struggling to remember. ‘Eighteen years ago today, your dad and I got married.’ Mum laughs at the memory. ‘We couldn’t afford a honeymoon, so we cooked a roast. We moved the table onto the verandah, opened a bottle of wine, lit candles, and had the best dinner.’ I go to one end of the kitchen table, lift and say, ‘Come on, Mum. It’s not too cold for dinner outside.’
88
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 89
Jake: dinner on the verandah ‘Everyone in town says a wolf couldn’t survive out here without being shot, or captured,’ Dad says. He leans back in the old wooden chair, rubbing his fingers into his forehead. ‘They may be right, Dad.’ I‘m tempted to tell him about Lucy and Sheldon Mountain, but I promised. ‘Peter says his dad thinks it’s a wild dog. When he finds it, he’s going to shoot it.’ Dad frowns and pours another beer. ‘He’s a rotten shot. The day I start listening to a Harding . . . well, that day will never come.’ I don’t want to talk about the wolf since Lucy told me her secret. ‘Great dinner, Mum. I’ll wash up. After all, it’s your anniversary.’ Dad looks at me, laughs, and says, ‘I knew there was a reason we had you, Jake.’
89
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 90
Lucy: every step I take When Peter asks Dad if he shot the wild dog, I think Dad’s going to choke. All day on Beaumont Hill, struggling through the bush for nothing. He shoves back his chair and burps loudly. That’s his way of saying thanks for dinner. Mum clears the plates as Dad storms into the lounge, calling over his shoulder, ‘Lucy, do the dishes.’ As if I didn’t know. As if him, or precious Superman, would ever get their hands wet doing a household chore. Mum stands by the sink, holding a tea towel, waiting. Dad calls for another beer above the noise of the television and she hurries to the fridge. I’m left alone with the dishes. That suits me fine. When I finish I stand outside looking up at the glowing moon,
90
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 91
rising over the hills. A newspaper blows across the dirt and catches on the wire fence. I’m glad he had such a hard time today. And tomorrow, Jake and me are heading in the opposite direction, tracking through the swamp to climb Sheldon Mountain. Jake will be looking for paw prints, listening for sounds, searching the bush, hoping to catch sight of his wolf so he can tell his dad. I’ll be walking ahead of him, whistling with every step I take away from this farm.
91
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 92
Lucy: the wish I want the dog to howl tonight. To tell everyone who’s boss. I want my dad to hear and know that it’s not afraid of him. Dad can sit in his chair, dirty feet on the footstool, gripping his beer, staring at the stupid television, and know that he’s a loser. He can’t even find a dog. Howl, dog. Howl in his face. A cold breeze blows down the valley and the Jacksons’ rooster starts crowing. I once read a book about these American Indians who could imitate animal noises. They would lure their prey in close by calling it. What I’d give to do that. Dad would go crazy. The wild dog, right outside his window. Laughing at him. Laughing in his face.
92
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 93
Jake: late at night Tonight I googled ‘Wolves in Australia’. I got twenty listings for the Wollongong Wolves Soccer Team and thirty-six for the movie Wolf Creek. But no wolves in Australia. No wolves ever in Australia. Someone should tell Dad that, but it won’t be me. The website said wolves don’t attack humans and their average lifespan is twelve years. Dad’s wolf is long dead, unless, as Dad thinks, he had a mate and a litter, which means tomorrow Lucy and I may be looking for more than one animal. Or we’ll spend all day on Sheldon Mountain looking for a ghost dog that doesn’t exist. In bed, I listen to the night sounds: a tree branch rustling against the roof, the crackling wood in our fireplace, the dogs on Hardings’ farm barking for food.
93
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 94
Our silly rooster starts crowing in the darkness and then all is quiet. No howl. Not a sound.
94
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 95
Lucy: tomorrow I lie awake most of the night thinking about me and Jake searching. I just want to get as far away from here as I can. I couldn’t care less if we find the dog. I’ve got to leave before they wake up, or else Superman will complain about being bored, like he does every morning, and I’ll be stuck with him for the day. Mum will say, ‘Go on, Lucy, take him with you. He won’t be any trouble.’ I wonder where she’s been for the last twelve years if she doesn’t know that Peter is nothing but trouble. All I want to do is keep moving in a direction away from this farm. And when it comes time to turn around, I’ve got to say to Jake, ‘You go back. But not me. Not ever.’
95
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 96
Lucy: before dawn It’s still dark out. Dad burps loudly as he sleeps in the lounge chair. He rolls over, knocking the bottle of beer. It dribbles across the floor, making a pool at his feet. I creep to the kitchen and pack my schoolbag with fruit, a half-loaf of bread and some cheese. A pack of stubbies is on the top shelf. Do I dare steal his only beer? He’ll freak. My hand is shaking as I take it. He can drink water, like the rest of us. I open the back door very quietly and the dogs start to growl so I quickly throw them some biscuits. There’s mist over the far paddocks and the faint rays of first light breaking through. The dew is shining on the grass and I can hear the crows in the trees. Soon Jake will be awake ready for his big adventure.
96
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 97
Jake: just a bushwalk This morning I boil two extra eggs and let them cool while we eat breakfast. I peel and place them in a bowl, add a small amount of milk, lots of cracked pepper, and mash them all up. Then I pack the sandwiches into my schoolbag with water and apples. ‘Me and Lucy are going for a bushwalk today.’ ‘Lucy?’ Dad looks uncertain. ‘Lucy Harding! You’re kidding.’ ‘It’s just a bushwalk, Dad.’ He says, ‘I don’t trust them. I never will.’ He pours himself another cup of tea, slopping the milk on the bench, and slams the back door as he goes to the verandah where Mum waits. No one can argue with him when he’s like this. He’s right, and that’s all there is to it. Or so he thinks.
97
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 98
I shrug into my oilskin jacket. I don’t want to be stuck on Sheldon Mountain shivering with cold. I carry the pack outside and stand on the step. I want to tell him he’s wrong. That he doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know where the wolf is. I do. Dad swills his tea-leaves into the garden. ‘Don’t think you’ll be spending all holiday with a Harding. We’ve got work to do.’ Mum raises her long fingers to her lips, telling me not to bother arguing. I walk away.
98
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 99
Jake: a creek apart Lucy is sitting on the same rock as yesterday. She’s slowly pouring beer into the stream, one bottle at a time, and arranging the stack of empties on the bank. I don’t really know her at all . . . I call across Wolli Creek and she waves back. ‘I’ll meet you at the bridge, upstream,’ I say. I don’t feel like wading across and getting soaked, not with a long hike ahead. Lucy and I walk along each bank, glancing across every few seconds. I feel like a real fool doing this, separated by the creek. We reach Hopkins Bridge and I cross to her side. She’s carrying a schoolbag, like mine. ‘Food and water,’ she says. ‘And I stole Dad’s beer. I poured it all into the creek, while I was waiting for you. Do you think fish get drunk?’
99
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 100
Jake: the swamp We follow the creek for a few kilometres with Lucy leading. I can see tiny fish darting through the water as we walk along an old sheep track overgrown with wild grass. This leads us into the swamp and almost immediately the sun passes behind a cloud. The path disappears as we pick our way through the sand and mud, feeling the ooze creep around our boots. I remember the swamp stories at school. ‘Do you believe in the lights, Lucy?’ She scoffs, leading the way through the marsh. ‘Yeah, it’s a wild pig with a torch.’ Black biting sandflies buzz around my face and lodge in my ears. I slap a bug off my arm. ‘This sand is really boggy,’ I say. Lucy turns and says, ‘It’s mud and sand and water, all mixed up and squelchy. That’s what a swamp is, you know?’ She sure is prickly.
100
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 101
As she turns and strides away, I imitate her words under my breath while the sludge seeps into my boots.
101
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 102
Lucy: the swamp It’s the arse-end of the world and we’re walking through it. I don’t believe in the lights and I’ve never seen anything coming out of this swamp but the clean water that trickles down into Wolli Creek. I’ve heard all the stories in town. I’m not scared. Let’s face it – if you live in a crap town and you’re going to be stuck there forever, well, you find a place that’s even worse and you make up stories and run it down to build up your own little place. You’ll step on anything just to get that little bit higher yourself.
102
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 103
Jake: firewood Finally we leave the swamp behind and start the slow climb to Sheldon Mountain through the forest of paperbarks. Lucy is way out in front, forcing the pace. I whistle for her to slow down. ‘Let’s stop up ahead, for a minute.’ We sit under a tree to rest, both leaning against the papery trunk, looking back over the valley. We take off our boots and socks and dry them on a rock. I can see the willows along Wolli Creek and in the distance, smoke lazily rising from the rusted chimney at Lucy’s house. I touch her arm and point in that direction. Lucy says, ‘Mum will be asking Peter to go and get more firewood and I know Peter will shout back, “Get Lucy to do it, it’s her job!”’ ‘Don’t they know you’re here?’ Lucy shrugs.
103
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 104
‘They know nothing and that’s the way I like it.’ ‘Will they do anything when they find you’re gone?’ I ask. ‘Yeah, they’ll make Peter get the firewood.’
104
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 105
Lucy: good riddance I stretch my legs out, feel the tension ease from my body. Jake passes me the water bottle and I take a long swig, thinking of Peter having to do some farm work, for a change. And Dad, stalking around the house looking for his beer, saying, ‘She’s probably run away. One less bloody mouth to feed. Good riddance.’ I reply, under my breath, ‘Good riddance to you.’
105
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 106
Jake: too many questions When we start walking again I ask Lucy, ‘Does your mum or dad ever talk about my family?’ She keeps her head down, treading carefully along the path. ‘I wouldn’t know. My parents don’t say anything to me, unless it’s to tell me to do something.’ I can’t believe that. ‘Come on. Do they?’ Lucy stops and looks at me through her hair. ‘I told you. They don’t talk to me, and I don’t talk to them.’ She walks ahead and I follow slowly. I say, to myself, ‘You must live in a quiet house.’ ‘What?’ ‘Nothing. I was just saying . . .’ ‘I live in a dump. That’s where I live. A dump. Are you happy now?’
106
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 107
I see the anger in her eyes and hold up my hand. ‘I’m sorry, Lucy. It’s just my dad . . .’ I stop. This won’t help matters. ‘Your dad what?’ Lucy says, ‘Didn’t he want you coming with me? Because I’m a Harding. That’s probably enough reason for him.’ Lucy shakes her head. ‘If you want to go home, and be with your know-all dad, then go. No one’s stopping you.’
107
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 108
Jake: the bush Lucy walks deeper into the bush, not turning around once. I follow a few paces behind. I’m not going back. Not until I’ve proved Dad right, or wrong. I’m too old for wolf stories now. It’s time I found out the truth. The land gets steeper and rockier. Lucy and I walk slowly, scrambling over huge boulders on our hands and knees. We don’t talk, aware of each sound in the forest. Every snap of a branch makes us stand silent and still, straining to see what’s out there. The paperbarks give way to tall mountain ash. The air is cold and crisp. A cockatoo screeches, high above, and we both jump in fright. Lucy almost smiles, for a moment, then she turns and follows the track. I check my watch – midday. We’ve been carrying these packs for a long time.
108
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 109
‘Lucy. Let’s stop at those rocks ahead, for lunch?’ We scurry up the rough incline. I climb first, stretching for each hold, until I can pull myself onto a smooth rock. Lucy passes both packs and I help her up. ‘Egg sandwich, okay?’ ‘You bet. I’m starving.’ She grins and I can see she’s got crooked teeth, just like me and Mum. It makes me like her. My dad always joked when he talked about Mum, ‘Never trust anyone with straight teeth!’ I think my Dad’s wrong about her. Even if she is a Harding.
109
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 110
Jake: knives Lucy lies back on the cool stone. ‘My dad sat in front of the television last night, sharpening his knives. That means one of the old chooks is going to get it today. They’ll be eating a stringy boiler for dinner, tonight. Chicken soup tomorrow night. The dogs get the bones.’ She closes her eyes and pulls her jacket tight around her. I look down at her smooth skin with the slight wrinkles around her mouth as if she’s smiling or grimacing at the world, I’m not sure which. The wind is picking up. Soon, Sheldon Mountain will be covered in mist and cloud. ‘The weather’s closing in, Lucy. Maybe we should turn back?’ ‘No way, Jake. I’m going on.’ She lifts the pack and starts walking, deeper into the bush. I follow, thinking of her dad and the sharpening knives.
110
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 111
Lucy: the groove Sometimes when I walk I get into such a groove that my mind shuts down and a rhythm takes over. A sentence forms, and no matter how much I try to forget it, the pace of my walking keeps it coming back. ‘My dad is an arsehole.’ Before I realise it, I’m keeping time with a beat that pushes me on, step by step, to the trees ahead; a slow steady climb. ‘My dad is an arsehole.’ I’m bouncing along up this narrow track not even aware of Jake falling further behind with every step. ‘My dad is an arsehole. My dad is an arsehole.’
111
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
six
The mist
Page 112
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 113
Lucy: the mist I love the mist, the way it drips off the leaves and coats everything with a glistening skin. It reminds me of my favourite fantasy novel – the Lady of the Lake standing on a boat in the middle of a veiled pond, like a ghostly dream. I always pictured myself on that boat, gliding, untouchable. With a wave of my hand I could disappear back into the fog from where I came. That’s the life. Untouchable, like a princess. Like a wild dog.
113
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 114
Jake: the cold quiet The mist closes in. We can see ten metres through the looming murk and no more. It’s coldly quiet. A fog blanket has shrouded the mountain and dampened every sound. No bird calls. No insect buzz. We’re far from roads and farms and family and loudmouth Peter and the barking dogs. Lucy and me, creeping through this gloomy other-world. The wallaby path gets narrower and steeper as we ready ourselves for the last climb to the top. Lucy waits for me to catch up. She says, ‘I’ve never been this far before.’ I remember my trip here with Dad, looking for lost sheep
114
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 115
and finding the ripped carcass. Blood and fur, matted together on the rocks. ‘I have. Once.’
115
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 116
Jake: the fall It only takes one smooth rock, a wet boot and the memory of a dead sheep. I slip and the weight of the pack spins me round, backwards, tumbling, rolling down the hillside unable to stop. There’s no way to escape this crazy fall. I keep my arms tight around my head because all I’m thinking as I roll is a rock and my face coming together. I close my eyes as the blood rushes to my head. Lucy is shouting out my name so I dig my feet hard into the earth and a bolt of pain shoots through my ankle. That’s when I stop falling and scream.
116
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 117
Jake: fractured? I close my eyes, grit my teeth and beat the ground with my fists, trying to block out the pain. I swear, over and over, at myself, at the mist, at the bloody wolf and my dad for believing in it, for telling me about it. I feel totally, absolutely helpless. Lucy slides down the hill, saying ‘shit’ over and over as if that’s going to help. When she reaches me, she kneels down, unties the laces and gently removes my boot. ‘Shit.’ ‘Can you stop saying that?’ I’m shaking as I touch the lump throbbing on the side of my ankle. Fractured?
117
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 118
I have scratches on my arms and legs, a rip in my pants, and a cricket ball growing out of my ankle. Lucy says, ‘Bloody hell!’ Despite the pain, I say, ‘Thanks, Lucy. That’s much better.’
118
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 119
Lucy: shiver I stop swearing and hold Jake’s ankle as he winces in pain. I feel so useless, cradling his swollen foot, looking at his ripped clothes; seeing him like this. I let the weight of his foot sink into my lap and I clutch his leg to help him stop shaking. We stay like this for a long time. Neither of us know what to do. Finally, Jake opens his eyes and jokes, ‘Ring for an ambulance?’ I try to smile. Jake says, ‘I think you’d better go back, for help.’ I shake my head. ‘No, not now. I couldn’t make it home before dark and there’s no way they’d find you until tomorrow. You can’t stay here all night.’ I shiver at the thought. Jake out here in the mist, alone on Sheldon Mountain.
119
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 120
Lucy: stupid Stupid. Why didn’t I turn back when Jake wanted? Why did I only think of myself, wanting to go on and on forever to get as far away as I could? This mountain seemed a good place to come. Any excuse to leave. Wolf? Who cares. The only animal I knew was the one I wanted to escape from. And now? I’ll find us somewhere to shelter tonight and tomorrow I’ll take the long walk back, straight to the Jackson farm, and when Jake’s dad sees me running . . . well, everything he thinks about the Hardings will be right.
120
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 121
Jake: the crow, and the cave A crow swoops down from the tree and lands on the cliff edge, not five metres away. It looks at me and lets out a pitiful squawk. ‘I know how you feel,’ I say. The crow spies something below and flaps away. That reminds me. We have apples, water, Lucy’s bread and the last of the sandwiches. Enough for the night. I gently touch my ankle. It’s almost swelling before my eyes. Lucy calls a loud ‘coooeee’ from above. She’s easing down the track, her hair bouncing. ‘Guess what I found?’ she says. ‘A doctor out on a bushwalk!’ ‘No.’ ‘A luxury mountain resort?’ ‘No, silly.’ ‘A rescue helicopter!’ Lucy laughs. ‘A cave. Just up there. It only goes a few metres into the cliff,
121
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 122
but it’s dry, out of the mist and the wind.’ I say, ‘I’d prefer a helicopter. I’ve always wanted a free ride.’ Lucy leans down to help me up and says, ‘If you don’t stop joking I’ll break your other foot.’
122
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 123
Lucy: in the dark, in the quiet He’s holding his foot making pathetic jokes and I’m sure he’s doing it for me. I know how much pain he’s in; how much it hurts when things get damaged. I put that out of my mind. It’s my fault for rushing, escaping, so quickly. Now I have to make it right. We’ll be okay. A night in a cave, in the dark, alone. I carry Jake’s pack and help where I can as he drags himself up the narrow track. When he rests, I hold his hand and he grips tight, steadying himself, breathing slow and heavy. ‘It’s not far now, Jake.’ Wishing us into the cave.
123
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 124
Jake: a few hundred metres A few hundred metres. An hour. Crawling, dragging, sweating and shivering in the mist. My fingers are numb from digging into the dirt, pulling myself along. Lucy walks beside me, leaning down to hold my hand when I rest. ‘It’s not far now, Jake. Not far.’ I think of the cave and the cold and Dad in our farmhouse drumming his strong fingers on the kitchen table, waiting for me, thinking I’m lost somewhere, with a Harding. He’ll be wrong. I’m not lost. And I’m glad Lucy’s here.
124
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
seven
The cave
Page 125
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 126
Jake: the cave The cave is narrow but deep enough for shelter. I drop my bag against the wall and slump back, exhausted from the slow climb. My foot throbs – an angry pulse. I cup my hands and blow warmth into my aching fingers. Lucy stands at the entrance, hands reaching to the roof, looking into the misty cloud. She’s thinking the same thing as me. Firewood. ‘We won’t be in darkness all night. I’ve got a torch,’ I say. She turns to me. ‘It’s too wet for firewood. We’d smoke ourselves to death. I’m not scared of the dark anyway.’ I grin. ‘That’s good. Because I’m petrified!’ Lucy says, ‘Fractured ankle,
126
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 127
scared of the night, no firewood. Anything else I should know?’ ‘A few things, but I’ll tell you later, when it gets really dark and the mist creeps in, and the wolf howls . . .’ We both laugh at ourselves and our big wolf adventure.
127
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 128
Jake: night Lucy sits beside me. We’re in this together. Outside the light is fading. We listen to the sound of water dripping off the cave entrance. I flash my torch at the wall opposite, waving it up and down. Lucy taps my arm and points at the beam. ‘What’s that? Your cave drawing of a wolf?’ ‘No. SOS by torchlight.’ ‘Very good, Jake. Pity there’s no one to see it, except me.’ ‘You’ll do. At least you stayed, Lucy. Your brother, he would have left me here, alone, waiting until morning.’ ‘Peter would have got lost hurrying home. You’d be a skeleton in a cave!’ ‘Well then, I’m really glad you’re here.’
128
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 129
Lucy smiles and goes to punch my arm, but I grab her hand and hold it tight. She wraps her fingers in mine. Neither of us wants to let go. Our hands drop gently between us and, for a moment, all I feel as I rest against my backpack is her warm hand in mine.
129
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 130
Lucy: Jake’s pulse I don’t get any of this. We’re sitting next to each other in the vanishing light holding hands. If anyone tried this at school I’d slap them. What happens now? I’m glad it’s dark in here, to hide my blushes. Maybe this won’t be so bad. At least Jake doesn’t hate me. I lean back and I’m surprised to feel his pulse, beating steady through his hand. Or maybe it’s my own heartbeat? Imagine his dad walking in now. Imagine my dad. Shit. I don’t know who’d be more scared, me or Jake. To hell with parents. They’re not here. Not tonight.
130
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 131
Lucy: in the sunshine Sometimes when I’m alone by Wolli Creek in the early morning, all I hear is a gentle ripple of water over rocks. I sit on the bank, close my eyes and time just drifts. Sunshine warms my body. I swear my heart beats slower and that’s all the movement I need. I read about meditation once. It must be like this. You switch off every bad thought and memory and all you know is warmth settling on you. I stay by the creek as long as I can. It’s my place, where no one can reach. Sitting next to Jake, his hand in mine, that’s like sunshine beside Wolli Creek.
131
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 132
Jake: Lucy’s prayer ‘Jake?’ Lucy’s voice is a whisper in the ink-black stillness. ‘Do you pray? At night, for things you want?’ I can feel my heart, beating, tracing a blood line down to my throbbing ankle. I don’t answer. ‘Every night I lie in bed listening to Peter snoring in the next room and the dogs scuffling outside on the creaky verandah. I pray for impossible things. No more wars. No more floods or bushfires. Sometimes I list everything bad in the world: kidnapping, murder, terrorist attacks, car crashes, death by lightning,
132
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 133
death by drowning, and I pray for it all to stop. I’m not sure who I’m praying to. But alone, on our shitty little farm, a minute of prayer can’t hurt. Look, it’s better than what my brother does in bed at night. Fart-bombs. Flapping blankets and giggling.’
133
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 134
Lucy: my little world I’ve never told anyone what I just told Jake. About my prayers. I just blurted it all out. He listened and I think he understood. He kept holding my hand. As I was talking I wondered, am I horrible for being pleased we’re stuck here tonight? Is that bad? I’m sorry about his ankle and the hurt he’s got, but I’m glad he’s here. I feel like one of those Trobriand women. This cave is my island, my little world. It’s good. I just want to enjoy this feeling. This powerful feeling.
134
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 135
Jake: the locusts I shine the torch towards the cave entrance and the impenetrable mist. I switch it off and we sit in the dark, our shoulders touching. ‘Do you remember the locust plague a few years back? After the rains, all the paddocks were green and the sheep were eating their fill for the first time in months. Remember? Then the locusts came. The sheep huddled under the trees, while the grass disappeared in a brown haze, like wicked magic. I was so angry I put on my cricket helmet, stretched mosquito net over the face guard, took my bat and stood in the middle of the paddock practising my hook shot until the bat was stained yellow. It was all I could do.
135
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 136
Mum and Dad sat on the verandah watching their work go bad while I played cricket, and lost.’ ‘What did they say, Jake? When you came in?’ ‘Dad shook my hand, and Mum said, “Good innings, son!” And the next morning, Dad was out early on his tractor, unloading bales of hay in the paddocks, feeding his sheep, as if nothing had happened.’
136
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 137
Lucy: the plague I remember the plague too. I was twelve. Mum and Peter were in town. Dad and I went out to round up the few sheep we had left. We spent hours in the paddock, running back and forward, chasing the sheep in circles, whistling at the dogs, locusts crashing into our faces. Dad got madder and madder, yelling at me; blaming me for the wandering flock, for the locusts, for him being stuck on the farm. I was running flat out trying to get the sheep into the shed with Martha and Winnie. All afternoon, running around the stupid paddock, chasing stupid sheep, getting splattered by stupid locusts, with my stupid father waving his arms like a madman, shouting abuse –
137
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 138
not at his dumb sheep, or his worthless dogs, or the locusts – but at me. What was I to do? Somehow I got the sheep in the shed. I fell down on the hay, exhausted, while Dad kept swearing, calling me useless. I was twelve for God’s sake. What did he want from me?
138
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 139
Jake: eucalypt We stop talking, exhausted by the climb and the memories of locusts. I drift asleep for a few moments but the pain stirs. I feel Lucy’s hand go limp, then squeeze, then go limp again. She’s having a dream, or a nightmare. I hold her hand firm to let her know I’m here. I think of the wolf, and how Dad’s story has led me and Lucy to this cave. I don’t care about my ankle. I’m glad we came here. Lucy’s body jerks and her legs flex as though she wants to run. I whisper her name but she doesn’t wake. I lean close to her hair. It smells of eucalypt.
139
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 140
Jake: on hard ground My body feels numb sitting on this hard ground, helpless, waiting out the night, knowing the chance to find the wolf is gone. I feel my pulse race as the ache throbs through my body. Now it’s me who wants to howl, in pain and frustration at being stuck here, knowing that when I get home Dad’s going to blame Lucy and tell me again, the Hardings are no good. He’s wrong, but how do I convince him of that? There’s more chance of him believing the wolf is just a wild dog. He knows what he believes. It’s up to me to prove him wrong.
140
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 141
Peter She’s run away, I reckon. Don’t you, Mum? She’s taken her bag and she took food. I was going to eat that! Maybe she’s not coming back. Are we going to look for her? Call the cops? Get a search party? Wow. That’d be really cool. She won’t be able to hide from no search party. We can get the dogs to sniff her clothes. They’ll lead us right to her. What do you think, Mum? It’s pretty late. We don’t have to go out in the dark, do we? Maybe we should wait till morning. She’ll come home by then. And why is Dad just standing in the back yard, Mum? Staring at the hills.
141
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 142
Jake: stories Lucy wakes, pushing back her hair and staring out at the night. ‘Do you really believe we’ll see your wolf, Jake? Honestly?’ I search long into the dark, and think, Not tonight, not in this cave. But I know she’s asking me if I believe in the wolf, believe that it exists. ‘When I was growing up, Dad loved to tell me about the wolf.’ Maybe Lucy’s prayers are the same as Dad and his story. It’s what they hold onto; it doesn’t matter if they’re true. ‘So yes, Lucy. My dad saw it. That’s enough for me.’ In the pit of my stomach I hope he’s right, but he was wrong about Lucy.
142
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 143
Lucy: lies When Jake says that I get so angry, I want to shake him and shout, ‘Parents lie! Parents say what they want to get their own way.’ I know it’s no use. Jake and his dad have their little story to fall back on. It’s not up to me to prove them wrong. Hell. I don’t care if it’s a wolf, or a wild dog, or a bloody ghost. To me, it’s an excuse to leave home. Jake can believe what he likes. Lucky him. I say, ‘Jake, if your dad believed in Santa, I guess you would too.’ ‘Santa!’ he says. ‘Not real? How could you say such a thing?’ For a moment, I don’t get it. Then Jake shines the torch into his face and I see him smiling, and he winks
143
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 144
and rolls around laughing at his joke until he bumps his ankle and screams in pain. ‘Serves yourself right!’ I say. He holds his ankle but can’t resist saying, ‘It’s okay. I’ll get over Santa, eventually!’ I threaten to hit him, but instead I lean over and kiss him on the lips and it’s a nice kiss. I blush and he kisses me back and that’s a nice kiss as well.
144
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 145
Lucy: blushes Bloody hell. Where did that come from? I’ve never kissed anyone before. But, it was either hit Jake or kiss him. So I chose. I hope I chose right. It felt good too. Kind of warm and soft and I could feel the blood rushing around my body, not sure where to go, filling up my veins with heat. We let our lips linger for long enough to enjoy. I blushed and he kissed me back. Bloody hell. What happens now?
145
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 146
eight
This is what happens
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 147
Jake: what wolf? I can smell the eucalyptus as we kiss. I press my face into her long hair as we move together without speaking. My arms are tight around Lucy and we’re so close it’s almost overwhelming. The warmth, the sweet smell of her hair, the touch of her body inside my arms, the sound of our breathing. If I had a choice between a fractured ankle and a night in the cave with Lucy or a guarantee to find the wolf, I’d look at myself in the mirror and say, ‘Wolf? What wolf?’
147
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 148
Lucy: for good This is what happens. One thing, one simple thing. And you know when it happens that it’s going to break everything that’s come before. I know it. I can tell. Don’t laugh at me, like I’m a dumb teenager with my first kiss. That’s bullshit. I’ve seen things that I knew, there and then, were going to get to me. I’ve seen bad thundering through our house and it made my stomach churn and every muscle in my body grow tense like cold wire. I’ve hidden under the house in the dirt like a cornered animal
148
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 149
waiting for the jaws to snap shut. I was powerless to stop his rampage. I don’t want to feel like that anymore. That kiss from Jake changes everything. It changes everything for good.
149
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 150
Jake: it doesn’t matter Lucy stands and walks into the darkness at the back of the cave. It’s so quiet I can hear her breathing. She says, ‘I lied, Jake. About knowing where the wolf lived. I’m sorry. I thought if there was a wolf, he’d live somewhere like here. I didn’t come looking for your wolf.’ I’ve spent years dreaming about his lair. I knew he prowled Beaumont Hill searching for food, or a mate, but when Lucy told me of Sheldon Mountain, it seemed right. Somewhere mysterious, hidden from everyone. I wanted to find the wolf. To prove it to myself, and to Dad. But now, maybe it doesn’t matter. I’m glad Lucy’s here, even if she didn’t come for the wolf. ‘Lucy, why?’ 150
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 151
Lucy: the soaking I gently place my backpack under Jake’s heel to give him something to rest his ankle on. I lean in close to tell him a story, to explain . . . ‘One day, last year, I was walking home from Hopkins Bridge. Thunder rumbled over Beaumont Hill as the rain poured down. I was in for a soaking, with nowhere to hide. Suddenly, lightning struck a tree in the paddock right beside me. It split the tree in two as if it was kindling falling across the track with a sad creaking dive. I could have run; Peter would have, crying all the way home. ‘You know what I did? I walked to the paddock where the tree was struck. I lay down in the bristling wet grass
151
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 152
and watched the clouds battle across the sky. Have you ever watched raindrops falling straight towards you? It’s like you’re lifted into the storm. There’s just you and the sky. I wasn’t scared. I was in the storm. It was freedom. It was worth the soaking. ‘I wanted to be free, Jake.’
152
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 153
Jake: real I’m a normal teenage boy. I look at all the girls on television, in movies, in soaps, in magazines. These girls with their clean hair, gleaming white teeth and flawless skin, they shine like glossy varnish has been painted on them. Lucy didn’t feel like I imagined. She felt soft and firm at the same time and as we kissed I felt her getting warmer, responding to me. It was the most magical thing I’ve ever known. Lucy is beautiful, but not like those fantasy girls. Lucy is real.
153
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 154
Jake: Lucy and me When Lucy held her hair back I leant in close and started kissing her again. Simple. I’m not saying much more about what we did. You don’t tell people those things. It’s not right, to say. We lay there, kissing, getting warmer, and everything in my past just disappeared: the farm and the long driveway, the chook shed and the eggs every morning, Mum drinking tea on the verandah, Patch and Spud barking, the magpies ringing from the trees, Wolli Creek bubbling over the rocks, Dad coming in from the paddocks, humming, the wolf, all gone. It was Lucy and me. It was like getting lost in the bush and being happy to wander; to enjoy the sounds and smells
154
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 155
and to touch each tree, each shrub. I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense. It’s how I feel. It’s Lucy and me.
155
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 156
Lucy: think good things I’m not telling anybody anything. Think what you like, why would I care? Jake and me did what we did. If only you could see the grin on my face. I’m glad it’s dark so I can smile away to myself like some half-crazy fool. And I know why Jake’s dad looks after his farm and his family. It came to me when Jake and me were . . . you know. It’s the place where good things happen, where you feel at home. Sacred ground, if you like. And, for me, that’s this cave. I’m not saying everything is rosy now. Nothing’s that easy. But, now I know, I’m normal.
156
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 157
Maybe a little special. At least, special to someone. I’m not saying anything more. You can imagine it. Think good things, okay?
157
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 158
Lucy: one smart old lady Grandma once told me Mum didn’t want to marry Dad, she had to. Pregnant. With me. He was some wild boy passing through. And because Grandpa didn‘t approve, they had to live in town until I was born. Then Grandma took pity on us after Grandpa died and made us come and live on the farm. Me a little baby and Mum learning to be a mum. And Dad? He spent all day in the yard, smoking and sitting around waiting for nothing to happen. Grandma ran the farm like she always had, even when Grandpa was alive. And like the locust plague, we settled on the farm and made it our own. Me and Superman grew up, wondering why Dad and Grandma
158
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 159
didn’t talk much to each other. But then Grandma, she was always one smart old lady.
159
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 160
Lucy: what do I say? I kneel down beside Jake and say what I’ve got to say, about parents. I start with slaps turning into the leather strap hard across my legs. I don’t stop. I say more than I meant to and less than I want, but enough. Jake doesn’t move, his arm around my shoulder as I speak in this urgent whisper until it’s all done. And then I cry. You won’t believe this: I’ve never cried in front of someone. Never. I used to think it was weakness. And now I’ve started, I don’t stop. Jake holds me gently. I cry years’ worth of tears in one night. Jake keeps holding me, whispering, ‘Lucy’,
160
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 161
over and over. I feel better hearing Jake’s voice and my name.
161
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 162
Jake: real pain What Lucy is feeling, that’s real pain. The sort that stabs and pounds and makes you shake with anger. My ankle, it’s just an injury. It’ll go away in a few weeks and I’ll probably never think of it again. I stroke Lucy’s hair and repeat her name, hoping my voice can ease the hurt. I hold her in my arms where she’s safe and I try hard not to think about tomorrow when she’ll have to go home because of me and my useless ankle.
162
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 163
Lucy: dreams It seems like ages, but finally I fall asleep and dream of being far away. I’m on my island with Jake and we’re swimming in a clear lagoon and yes, there are coconuts and palm trees and we’re naked! Can you believe that? Swimming in warm water without a stitch on. The sand is blinding white under our toes and we can see rainbow fish. You can say all you like about me reading too many books and dreaming of the Trobriands – the islands, I mean, not the sex-mad girls! I don’t care. It was a good dream. It was a dream you should have when you’re sixteen years old. It was a dream with Jake in it. Jake and me. It was better than most dreams I’ve had.
163
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 164
Jake: close by Lucy’s head snuggles into my shoulder. I can just see the outline of her face and her hair falling across my jacket. I don’t mind how long she sleeps. I’m happy to be close by her, for as long as she wants. I’ve never slept beside anyone before. Tonight is a first for lots of things. I want to hold that feeling as long as possible. Lucy rolls gently onto her side and puts her arm around me. I close my eyes, and all I see is her face, all I hear is her breath, all I feel is her touch. I go back to sleep, happy to be here.
164
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
nine
Morning
Page 165
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 166
Lucy: nightmare A shout! I wake in panic. Did I hear a cry from the forest? I crawl to the entrance and listen – a faint breeze shivers the leaves. The mist is clearing. Somebody, something is out there, maybe staring back at me, watching, waiting. Jake’s steady breathing comes from the dark. Do I answer? If I call out I’ll scare Jake. Was it a nightmare? What if it’s him, hunting for me? Dad blundering about in the bush, getting angrier with every stumble. I peer into the murky darkness, wanting to shout, ‘You can’t find me. You can’t touch me. You can’t hurt me anymore.’ He’s a menace, a shadow slouching behind me today
166
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 167
when I hurry back to Jake’s farm to get help. But I won’t let him find me. I hope he gets lost in the dense woods and never makes his way out. Let him feel small. Let him know what it’s like to be scared.
167
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 168
Lucy: the muffled sound A muffled sound rises from the valley and a rush of wind shakes the trees. A branch snaps. Someone is out there, moving below me. I stare into the gloom and see a flash in the distance. Torchlight! He’s out there, searching for me. What if he finds this cave? Jake and me? I crawl back inside, my nightmare becoming real. Getting closer. No! I shut my eyes tight against the forest and its invader. I wrap my arms around Jake, gently over his sleeping body. He won’t find me with Jake. I shudder at the thought of what he’d do. He can’t see us together.
168
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 169
I whisper, ‘I’m leaving to get help. You sleep. I’ll be back with your dad.’ Jake grunts, half asleep. I won’t let him find me here. I’ll face him alone, if I have to.
169
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 170
Lucy: the shadows I leave Jake with the food and water, move slowly to the entrance and step out into the first hint of morning. I inch down the track, carefully, remembering Jake’s fall, yesterday. So long ago. At the bottom of the hill, I take a deep breath and plunge into the forest, ready for anything. I pick up a fallen branch as thick as my arm. I need something to hold, to give me courage. A walking stick, I tell myself. I follow the track slowly picking my way through the undergrowth. Every step I take is closer to him, standing there, flashing his torch, and grinning. Smug because he’s got me. I grip the branch and stop. He won’t find me.
170
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 171
I’m smarter than he is. There’s a way to outwit him. I know he’ll keep to the track. I’m sure of it. He’ll be too scared of getting lost in the bush and lumbering about for ages. It’s simple. I won’t take the track. I’ll do what every animal does. There’s safety in the bush. If I keep the first glow of the sun in front of me, slightly to my right, I’ll be heading towards home. I push into the forest that gives me cover and a chance to escape.
171
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 172
Lucy listens The hardest part is listening to every sound, waiting for him to appear from behind a tree near the track, wet and furious, and both of us miles from anywhere. My step quickens. I try to get into a rhythm – ‘My dad is an arsehole, my dad is an arsehole’ – but it doesn’t work. All it does is bring him closer in these lonely woods. He lurks, a scowl tattooed across his face, and all I can do to stop him becoming real is keep my eyes down and pick my way through the overbearing bush. He waits for me around every corner.
172
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 173
Lucy: a presence Suddenly, I feel a presence. My body tenses. I’m being watched. I search in the half-light for a movement through the trees. A silence creeps through the forest and I grip the branch tighter. I crouch, better to stay hidden, and try to slow my breathing. If he comes closer I’ll have to decide whether to run or face him, here, alone in the bush. For a second I close my eyes and see Jake, still asleep, curled in the cave, his head on my backpack. He’s dreaming of the wolf standing at the cave entrance. I hope his dream comes true. I can’t stay here much longer, hiding.
173
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 174
Something is out there. I have to stand and face it or else I’ll never move. I push the branch into the ground and raise myself to the forest and its presence.
174
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 175
Lucy: like a stray wolf There! Near the trees. A movement. Please don’t let him see me. I can’t escape, or attack. It’s an animal. A dog, or a . . . Moving slowly near the track, he stops and smells my scent. He looks straight at me. A silhouette in the tall grass. He’s not scared and neither am I. We take a step towards each other, inquisitive, as if pulled by some timeless bond. In that moment, my fear falls away and I’m lost in his eyes. How long has he been out here, searching? We stand facing each other. The wild dog and me.
175
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 176
Slowly, carefully, I kneel down to be at his level. ‘Are you Shadow? Or the wolf?’ The dog moves forward in response to my voice, his tongue out, head down, eyes never leaving me. His fur is grizzled grey and black. I reach my hand out, beckoning. ‘Come closer. Let me get a better look.’ The dog bounds sideways into the bush and is gone. I fall to my knees and for a few minutes I can’t possibly move. I’ve seen him. He’s out here, like Jake said he was. I don’t know what to do. Go back to Jake and the cave and tell him what I saw? Or keep going, for help?
176
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 177
I can still picture him standing there, looking at me, without making a sound. Like a ghost. That’s why Jake’s dad tells his story, over and over. He saw the wolf and telling his story keeps it real. Gives him strength. I stand straight, every muscle tingling, sure I can go on, ready for what I must do. I follow the track away from the cave, deeper into the woods. Like the stray wolf, I’m not alone.
177
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 178
Lucy: Grandma ‘Time only goes one way.’ That’s what Grandma used to say. Every time I’d sit with her on the verandah and tell her about school, Peter and his annoying ways, Mum not standing up for herself, or Dad and his temper, she’d just sit there and point her walking stick at the farmyard gate, as if wishing it open. I knew she wasn’t talking about waiting to die. She was telling me to hold tight, to wait, that it’ll all pass. I’d follow her eyes to the gate and I’d whisper, ‘Time only goes one way.’ When she died, I wanted to put it
178
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 179
on her headstone, up on the hill. But no one listened to me, except Grandma, and she was gone.
179
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 180
Lucy: fractured sounds bad The sky is early-morning blue and you could get lost in it. I see the vapour trail of a jet miles above and for once I don’t wish I was escaping on it. I’m returning along the track to Jake’s farm to get help. What will I say? How much will I say? Jake’s voice echoes, ‘Just tell them I’m all right, I’ve hurt my ankle. Don’t say anything is fractured. That sounds bad.’ I wonder what he’s doing now? I laugh out loud as I picture Jake sitting at the cave entrance, his eyes searching the valley below, looking for the wolf. I’ll tell him as soon as I get back. The calm I felt when I saw the wolf; the power he gave me.
180
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 181
Lucy: the plan As I enter the swamp I see a boot print and I know it’s his – the weight, the markings. He’s looking for me, carrying a torch and all that hatred. The print is heading home and I can imagine him now sitting under the tree ignoring Peter and Mum, knowing I’ve got to come back sooner or later; waiting for his chance. I don’t care what happens when I get home. I mean it. Dad can hit me again. He can try. Only this time I won’t run. I won’t put my hands up. I’ll stand straight, just out of his reach. Even though my legs
181
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 182
will be shaking and my insides churning, I won’t move. I’ll keep my eyes fixed on Mum and see what she does. I don’t care anymore. What Jake and I got. That can’t be touched; it can’t be broken. My father can bash me all he likes, but I know now, he can’t touch me. I’m unbreakable. I’m strong. Stronger than any fist.
182
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 183
Lucy: not alone Maybe that’s my dad’s problem. That’s why he’s always angry; why he hits before he thinks. Because he doesn’t believe. Because he’s got nothing to hold onto, deep down, nothing that makes him a man. What must it be like to be so alone, so unloved. No, I’m not feeling sorry for him. I’m not that forgiving. But I know that I’ve got Jake and the cave and the wild dog – the wolf – whatever it is. And my dad, he’s got nothing.
183
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 184
Lucy: Jake’s dad Jake’s dad! He’s walking along the track beside the creek, leading a horse; his head down, looking for tracks. He kneels and touches the ground like he’s trying to feel for his son. I’m about to call his name when he looks up. His hand goes straight to his heart as if to stop it leaping out of his chest. I start running. I don’t want to look worried, or in a panic, but I run so I reach him quickly and when I get there I see the suspicion on his face. I’ve done something bad to his son; I’m a Harding. ‘He’s okay, Mr Jackson,’ I say. ‘Just a sprained ankle. We stayed in a cave last night. I came to get help.’
184
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 185
He listens to the story of Jake slipping on the rock and how instead of walking home on the ankle and making it worse, we decided to find shelter and get help in the morning. He nods and asks, ‘How are you, Lucy?’ No one has ever asked about me. I don’t know how to answer or how to trust anyone’s questions. I say, ‘Let’s go get Jake.’
185
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 186
Lucy: how happy Jake’s dad doesn’t say much as we head to Sheldon Mountain. He asks me if I’d like to ride the horse, to rest, but I say, ‘No, I don’t want to be a burden.’ He looks at me. ‘Burden?’ Then he seems to lose track of what he wanted to say. I’m relieved. I just want to find Jake and get this over with. The sun is high when we reach the bottom of the mountain. Mr Jackson ties the horse’s reins to an old gum tree and loads his pack with food and water for the climb. As we set off over the rocks I think of Jake, sitting, waiting,
186
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 187
and how happy he’ll be when he sees his dad. How happy he’ll be.
187
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 188
Peter Mum, you gotta come, quick. Dad’s gone. And so is the car. Has he gone looking for Lucy? But why would he take the car? He won’t get far over the paddocks in that. Why didn’t he take the bike? Why didn’t he wait for me? The dogs, Mum, they’re still chained up. They’ll find Lucy. It don’t make sense, Mum. And I checked too, Dad’s gun is still there. He don’t go anywhere without his gun. I reckon it would be handy. He could fire off a shot and Lucy would hear it miles away, don’t you reckon? So why no gun? And the car? Where’s he gone, Mum? I want to find Lucy. I want to find Dad.
188
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 189
Lucy: hungry We reach Jake soon after midday. Yes, he’s sitting on the rock, his foot resting on the pack. When he sees his dad he scrambles to his feet and stumbles into his father’s arms. I hang back near the cave and watch them with their eyes closed, hugging. They stay like that for a long time and it’s like they’re fixing something that almost got broke. You know what I mean? They’re saying stuff without a word and so I keep real quiet. When they stop, Jake limps over and puts his arms around me. He says ‘thanks’, even though he doesn’t need to. He kisses me right there in front of his dad and all Mr Jackson says is, ‘You must both be hungry. Let’s eat.’ 189
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 190
Lucy: ghosts I finish my sandwich and drink some water. Jake and his dad are close together, on the rock. I can’t wait any longer. ‘I saw the wolf.’ His father slowly grins and I’m sure he wants to say, ‘I knew it. I knew it.’ ‘It was in the forest this morning. He was right in front of me and everything was quiet and still, like a dream. Can you believe it? Just me and him! I don’t know if it was a wolf or a wild dog. He was in the long grass, but he was big. When he moved away, he was silent, like a ghost.’ My voice trails off
190
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 191
as I look into the forest below where the wolf lives, and prowls. I saw what I saw; they can believe me or not. Jake’s dad rubs his forehead, lost in thought. Jake says, ‘He’s our wolf, Dad.’
191
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 192
Lucy: Jake’s Dad Jake’s dad starts packing, giving himself time to gather his thoughts. ‘I believe in the wolf, Lucy. I have since that day beside Wolli Creek.’ He scratches a stick into the ground. ‘But when Jake didn’t come home last night, I knew deep in my bones he was out here, somewhere in the forest, looking for the wolf.’ He draws a cross with the stick, over and over, unaware he’s doing it. ‘I felt sick, Jake. I’d put you at risk, because of my obsession.’ He stands and tosses the stick over the ledge. ‘Who cares if it’s a wolf, a feral dog, a dingo-cross, a huge fox or, yes, even a ghost!
192
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 193
Who cares? The bloody thing eats my sheep and howls at night. That’s enough to know. I’m sorry, Jake. So sorry. I didn’t mean for you to go looking for my wolf.’
193
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 194
Jake: what matters Maybe I came here to prove Dad wrong. If all we found was a wild dog, I could tell Dad he was mistaken. If there really was a wolf, well, it would become my wolf. Because I saw him, I found him. ‘No, Dad. I had to come. I wanted to find what was out here.’ I hold out my hand for Lucy to help me up. I’m just like Dad. I want to be right, all the time. Lucy looks from me to Dad and says, ‘What you believe in, Mr Jackson, that‘s all there is.’ Dad nods, smiles and reaches for my hand, to help me down the track. It’s time to leave Sheldon Mountain.
194
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 195
Jake: Wolli Creek On the slow walk to Wolli Creek, Dad and Lucy swap stories, going into every detail of their sightings, and I realise that, from now on, there is no escaping the wolf. We sit beside the stream in the late afternoon sunshine. My ankle throbs with the pain of the scramble down Sheldon Mountain to Charlie. We’re nearly home. Lucy is holding a shiny rock in her hands, turning it over and over, and looking out across the creek to her farmhouse. ‘You can come home with us, Lucy,’ I say. ‘If you want, I’ll go with you tomorrow, to your place.’ Lucy tosses the rock into the water, watching the ripples
195
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 196
slowly spread. ‘Thanks, Jake. I’ll be all right. If I stay away too long, Peter will have no one to annoy.’ Dad looks at me, but knows not to ask. I reach out for Lucy’s hand. ‘I’ll visit soon as I can, on Charlie! Okay?’
196
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 197
Lucy: on the hill I circle the yard like a lonesome wolf and climb up the hill to the graves. I sit beside Grandma and pull the weeds, clearing around her headstone. ‘Time only goes one way, Grandma. Now I have to face him, face them both.’ I wish she was still here, waving her cane, sticking up for me. I look down on our ramshackle house. So quiet. The dogs are asleep under the verandah and there are no lights on even though it’s almost dark. Are they out looking for me? I scoff loudly. My voice wakes the dogs and they start barking. Bloody hell. I say, ‘See you, Grandma’ as I walk down the path.
197
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 198
Lucy: sorry It has to be Peter who sees me first. Superman shouts my name, and yells to Mum, ‘I found her. I found her!’ Yeah, good job, Superman, you searched the back yard and found your sister, walking home from Grandma’s grave, looking down at the old farmhouse. Peter runs to me and wraps his arms tight around me, for God’s sake. Peter hugs me! So I squeeze him back and watch as Mum walks across the yard, the tea towel still in her hands. She hesitates as we meet and I say, ‘Sorry, Mum. I didn’t mean to worry you.’ She reaches for me and starts to cry and keeps saying
198
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 199
‘Sorry’ over and over, in a frantic whisper. ‘Sorry.’
199
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 200
Lucy: no more We stand together with Mum squeezing my hand as if afraid to let go, while I tell my story of Jake and the cave, the fall and his fractured ankle. I don’t mention the wolf. Mum turns to lead me towards the house, but I hold firm. ‘No, Mum. No more.’ I can’t go inside. Not with him there. Mum lowers her eyes. ‘He’s gone, Lucy. Gone, for good.’ At that moment all the breath rushes from me, like falling out of a tree and landing flat on my back. I almost faint with the pressure.
200
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
ten
Home
Page 201
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 202
Lucy: home Mum calls me into the kitchen, away from Peter’s questions, and asks me to help her cook dinner. I sit at the table and cut the vegetables into long thin strips. She peels the potatoes in the sink, keeping her voice low as she talks. ‘Last night he went looking for you, Lucy. He was gone all night. I sat here praying he wouldn’t find you.’ Mum looks up, quickly. ‘Not because I didn’t want you home. It wasn’t that. I didn’t want him to hurt you again. He came back at dawn, swearing and shouting.’ Mum grips the peeler tightly, scraping away the skin of each potato with sharp angry strokes. ‘You were right, Lucy. You can’t just keep out of his way.’ She leans on the bench and I’m worried she’s going to faint. ‘When he returned, I grabbed his arm.
202
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 203
Can you believe it, Lucy? I led him outside, away from Peter, sleeping. I stood in the yard, the keys to the car in my hand.’ Mum puts down the peeler and looks at me. ‘I’m sorry, Lucy. I’m not proud of this, but I said, “One of us has to leave.” I didn’t want it to be me. I dropped the car keys between us and waited. He sneered – you know, like he always does – and said, “If I pick them up, that’s it. I’m never coming back.” I turned and walked inside. I was shaking, Lucy. It was like time was standing still until I heard the motor start. Then I cried and cried. Here in the kitchen. It was all I could do to not howl, Lucy. I sat here listening for you.
203
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 204
I was so afraid I’d lost you forever, even though I knew you’d be safe. You have a touch of Grandma in you.’ Mum looks towards the lounge room. I know she’s thinking, What does Peter have? I put my arms around her. ‘Peter has us, Mum.’
204
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 205
Peter My sister went looking for their wolf. Jake and her got stuck in a cave and stayed the night in the dark. How cool would that have been? But they never found nothing. Dad went looking for her and he found nothing, too. I don’t know why he left. It’s not fair. He didn’t tell me. He just snuck off when I was asleep. I kept asking Mum all morning but she didn’t say much that made sense to me. Maybe he just got sick of sitting round the farm where it’s boring and nothing happens. Maybe he’s gone to be a truckie again. But he still should have said goodbye. He should have said something.
205
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 206
Lucy: dinner We cook a roast – the first we’ve had since Winnie died – with baked potatoes and dumplings and gravy, and Peter keeps asking for more. Superman needs to build up his strength now he’s the man of the house, which makes me smile and almost laugh out loud. But I can’t do that because Peter misses him, and he doesn’t understand why Dad’s gone. We’re going to have to tell him. It won’t be easy. As Mum carves the meat right down to the bone, and pours the thick gravy, we glance at each other. I want to ask her something, but it’s too soon. Mum says, ‘I hope you like the dinner.’ She glances towards Dad’s chair as if she’s said too much.
206
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 207
‘It’s fine, Mum.’ She forces a smile and offers me more.
207
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 208
Lucy: Grandma’s candle My grandma used to burn a long white candle beside her bed early on Sunday morning. She’d close her eyes and whisper to Grandpa, who’d been gone for years. In the silence I knew he was answering, sending back his love. She said the smell of the candle brought them together and as long as that candle flamed no one could intrude. After dinner I go into Grandma’s room and find a scented candle in the drawer beside her bed. I take it to the window, light it and place it on the ledge where I can see their graves. I tell her about the cave – Jake and me, what we did,
208
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 209
what we said. And I tell her about the wild dog, the wolf, roaming the hills, and I pray he finds a partner. I breathe in the vanilla smoke and close my eyes. I can see her face. Grandma once said, ‘Some people are born half-dead. And they take years to go.’ ‘Not me, Grandma. I won’t ever be like that.’ A full moon is rising over the tree line. I reckon Jake is sitting at his window now, watching the moon, listening for a howl.
209
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 210
Lucy: this house I open the door to Grandma’s room and let the candle scent drift through the house. I follow its cleansing perfume, the floorboards creaking with every step. Peter snores and the dogs scuffle around outside. In the lounge room is my father’s chair, big and comfortable. I sit in it and lean back, put my feet on the coffee table, stare at the wide plank walls and the high patterned ceiling that I’d never noticed before. Grandma’s house. I fall asleep in my father’s chair and I don’t dream. I sleep long into the morning until a movement wakes me. Peter is standing beside me, his hair all messy from bed. He says, ‘That’s Dad’s chair.’
210
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 211
I want to say, ‘Not anymore’ but I stop myself. This house, this room, these walls, they’ve heard enough arguing.
211
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 212
Jake: Lucy smiles Mum and Dad are mending the fence in the eastern paddock. If I was there, I’d be tightening the wire, slowly, while Dad’s big hands check the tension. But I’m sitting on the verandah, ankle bandaged, leg raised, watching the cockatoos in the old dead tree. I don’t notice Lucy coming across the yard. She says, ‘Hi, Jake,’ and I almost fall off my chair. She giggles and says, ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’ She stands at the foot of the stairs, her hands deep in her pockets. I tell her I’ve been scanning Wolli Creek waiting for the wolf. I hold up my binoculars to prove I’m serious even though, truth be known, I’m just doing it because there’s not much else to do with one foot tightly bandaged
212
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 213
and orders from Mum to keep off it. Lucy sits beside me on the lounge and feels the soft cushions. ‘It’s more comfortable than the cave, but not as much fun.’ I’m not sure who blushes more. She leans in close and we kiss, just quickly. Her hair is tied back in a long ponytail with a dark-blue ribbon. ‘I like your hair, Lucy.’ She smiles. Lucy smiles on our verandah.
213
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 214
Lucy: I will I sit beside Jake as we watch the sun fade slowly behind Beaumont Hill. The deepest brightest orange shines through the high clouds and it’s beautiful. It’s perfect. I tell Jake about Mum, how she stood up to him at last and kept saying sorry all night until the word was worn out. I didn’t want to talk about the past anymore. We agreed not to mention him again. Mum said, ‘Let’s just get on with it, Lucy.’ And the voice wasn’t Mum, it was Grandma. It was her way of dealing with droughts, or floods, or fire. She’d stand on the verandah, arms folded, her eyes sparkling, and she’d say, ‘Let’s get on with it.’ And we would. So, I will. 214
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 215
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 216
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 217
Also by Steven Herrick
By the river Life for Harry means swimming in Pearce Swamp, eating chunks of watermelon with his brother and his dad, surviving schoolyard battles, and racing through butterflies in Cowpers Paddock. In his town there’s Linda, who brings him the sweetest-ever orange cake, and Johnny, whose lightning fists draw blood in a blur, and there’s a mystery that Harry needs to solve before he can find his way out… An intense story about feeling the undercurrents, finding solid ground and knowing when to jump.
Honour Book, 2005 Children’s Book Council of Australia Book of the Year awards for older readers Winner, 2005 NSW Premier’s Literary Awards, Ethel Turner Prize for Young People’s Literature
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 218
Do-wrong Ron Ron always does the wrong things at the wrong time, or the right things at the wrong time, or the wrong things at the right time…until he finds Charlie, the guinea pig who looks like an oversized rat, and they meet Isabelle, who is waiting for something, anything, to happen. When Ron plans a musical welcome for Isabelle’s nana, anything just might happen… A funny, touching story about a do-wrong boy whose heart is in the right place.
Honour Book, 2004 Children’s Book Council of Australia Book of the Year awards for younger readers
Lonesome USE (NEW)
5/6/06
5:00 PM
Page 219
Naked Bunyip Dancing The story of Mr Carey the Hairy, Anna, Billy the punk, J-man and everyone else. What a crazy class! And what a funny, unpredictable year – the year of Naked Bunyip Dancing – when the kids in Class 6C find out who they are, what they’re good at, and how to put on a fantastic show.
Notable Book, 2006, Children’s Book Council of Australia awards for younger readers Shortlisted, 2006, NSW Premier’s Literary Awards, Patricia Wrightson Prize
![Howl [Anthology]](https://epdf.pub/img/300x300/howl-anthology_5ba51af6b7d7bca908ddaf6c.jpg)
